Matters of the Heart
by Red Warrior
Summary: "Well, I have to say it was not simple choosing one name over another, but I think I'm going to call it a Cardiactivator." JO/WM


**Disclaimer: this story is set anywhere in Season 3.  
**

**Matters of the Heart**

"Bloody hell, Crabtree, I've had it with your bloody broken flowerpots! Can't you just grow up and realize there are far more important matters to attend to in this bloody constabulary?"

"Sir, I know this might seem ridiculous, at least at first, but please hear me out: what if there is a link between those pots? I mean, five ladies coming in here complaining about someone shattering their flowerpots, and in less than a week, I find it to be very intriguing, wouldn't you say so?"

Inspector Thomas Brackenreid sighed and ran a hand through his reddish hair; the lad was assaulting him with nonsense bubbling out of his bloody mouth, and he hadn't even had his morning scotch yet. "So, we have some guy running around kicking jars, big deal," he grunted, already moving past a very enthusiastic George Crabtree who had an armful of sheet clutched to his chest.

"It could be a big deal indeed, Inspector!" the younger man pursued, falling in step with the head of station four. He apparently wasn't good at detecting sarcasm. "I've done my own personal research, and it turns out every plant that was growing in the broken pots were from the same phylum, or should I say the same branch." When his joke didn't stop Brackenreid from reaching his office and opening the door, Crabtree's grin dissolved into a serious frown. "They all belonged to the _Bromeliaceae _family, which is quite unusual this time of y-"

"While I'm happy that you are expending your knowledge as a botanist, Crabtree, I'd rather you did so on your personal time, and not when you're supposed to be working on real cases," the Inspector growled, hanging his jacket and his hat and going straight to his cabinet. If he didn't pour himself a nice drink that very minute, there would be no telling what he would do to the young constable.

However, before Brackenreid could even reach the cupboard, a powerful flash of light made him jump. "What the bloody hell!" he rasped, looking at Crabtree who had dropped his notes on the floor out of surprise. "Was that lighting? It's not even raining outside!"

"I'm not sure it came from outside, sir…"

The Inspector growled. "Then I have a pretty good idea who's responsible for this…" He stepped over the notes, leaving Crabtree to pick them up, and stomped over to the office sitting directly across from his, and which curtains were – typically – drawn shut.

Unceremoniously, he flung the door open. "Care to explain what's going on, Murdoch?" he boomed.

When he saw the detective bent over his desk, with glasses on and a pair of what looked like tweezers in his hand, he knew he had been right. Little surprise there, though.

William Murdoch blinked at his superior, his right hand holding the tweezers stopped in mid-air as if in the middle of a movement, but he soon recovered and straightened himself. "Ah, good morning sir, how are you doing?" he said casually, taking off his glasses and putting them carefully on his desk.

"Cut it out, old scoundrel, I just want to know what you're up to this time," Brackenreid said, stepping closer to the desk to examine the various pieces of metal that were laid out on it. "No, don't tell me anything, a new invention right? What is it this time? A device to read into minds? Oh no, I know, glasses that can see through walls, I bet."

Murdoch smiled politely, secretly fighting back an urge to roll his eyes. "Oh, sir, I'm afraid you overestimate my abilities… No, my work has to do with the medical field, this time." When his superior didn't ask for more details, Murdoch sighed and picked up some papers from his desk. "I've been to the library last week and found some very interesting articles, written by American and Japanese scientists. They have established that in order to pump blood through the entire organism, heart muscles must contract as one, and work together in a, ah, synchronized way if you will, under the control of endogenous biological impulses that-"

"Murdoch, I'm not in a very good mood, and I haven't had my morning drink yet, so please stop being a smartass and tell me what use your bloody device is going to have," the Inspector asked, already rubbing his forehead as he tried to recall where he had heard the word _endogenous_ before.

Quite put off at being interrupted in the middle of an explanation, the detective scowled but eventually went on. "I'm attempting to build a device that could send a controlled and calibrated electric signal through a heart to synchronize its muscles, or even have them work anew after a heart attack," he stated.

Brackenreid's eyes widened and he actually whistled. "My, Murdoch, where do you get those ideas… And have you thought of a name yet?"

At that question, Murdoch's expression became a little smug, and when he spoke his voice was not entirely devoid of pride. "Well, I have to say it was not simple choosing one name over another, but I think I'm going to call it a Cardiactivator. I just need to put some final touches here and there, but I'm close to finishing. Just imagine the opportunities in hospitals, or even-"

"Whatever, old mucker, don't forget you also happen to work at a constabulary sometimes," Brackenreid said, dismissing the rest of the explanation with a wave as he stood from where he was sitting on the edge of Murdoch's desk. "Although criminals are rather scarce this time of year, I won't have you letting your guard down."

"Of course not, sir," Murdoch muttered and waited for the Inspector to walk out of his office and close the door before he added, "but maybe the lack of criminal activity is actually what drives me to find other ways to keep my skills in shape." He sighed and tossed his pair of tweezers onto his desk.

True, whether it had to do with Christmas approaching or the piles of snow in every street of Toronto, but criminality had reached a very low level, the lowest in decades according to Brackenreid. While his coworkers were quite happy about staying at the constabulary for hot tea and card games, Murdoch was feeling restless. He needed something to work on, a challenge for his brain, for he was constantly afraid that his skills would lose their fine edge.

With another sigh, he sat down at his desk and picked up his soldering iron once more. He had to find a way to control the electric signal better so it wouldn't be too weak, but wouldn't endanger someone either. If only Nicolas Tesla hadn't left Toronto…

"If only I had any idea what I am doing, too," he grumbled under his breath, throwing away yet another clogged piece of tin. He was soon going to run out of the precious metal.

_This is no good, I should go for a walk to clear my mind and stretch my legs. And buy tin foil. _

Although he didn't particularly enjoy snow or cold weather, Murdoch couldn't think of a better thing to do at the moment. Of course he could always drop by the morgue to see Dr Julia Ogden, but he had already visited her twice the day before; and although she had welcomed him with smiles and warm words, he could feel that unlike him she had a lot of things to do, and his presence was not entirely required when she was up to her elbows with paperwork and conference reviews. Still they always found time for a walk before they had to go home at night… Maybe it wouldn't be too forward of him to invite her for dinner at his house one of these days, after all, they had been courting for quite a few months now…

Murdoch hissed and stifled a scream when the burning hot end of the soldering iron came in contact with his left hand; lost as he was in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed he was slowly dropping the tool, not into its sheath, but onto his skin. He hastily slammed the iron back into its resting place and clutched his hand. "Bloody hell!"

"William, what is the meaning of this?"

The Detective spun around, and here she was in the doorway of his office. Julia Ogden, in an elegant blue dress, and with both her hands on her hips. She was frowning at him and he suddenly felt very stupid, standing like this holding his hand in the middle of his office, pieces of metal and tools scattered everywhere. "Julia, I didn't hear you coming in…"

"I knocked, but got tired of waiting… Why are you swearing and why are you holding your hand like this?" she asked as she closed the door and walked up to him.

"I… I guess I wasn't paying attention, I just burnt myself," he admitted sheepishly.

At this her features softened and she put a hand under his elbow. "Let me have a look."

"Oh, no, Julia, I'm fine, I was a bit surprised nothing more," the young man said although his hand was burning like a potato in an oven. "You don't have anything to worry about."

"Don't be silly, William, I'll just take a peek," Julia scoffed, peeling his right hand away from his injury. She frowned upon seeing the burn mark, already red and swelling. "Sit down, this looks like a nice second-degree burn… I don't know how you did this, but it cut right through the epidermis and into superficial dermis. We have to cool it down quickly."

Murdoch knew there was no stopping his dear doctor when she was on a medical rant, so he just nodded and sat down on a stool. He observed the ragged cut and red blister beginning to form on the back of his left hand, while Julia made her way to his window. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket, upon which she piled up snow from the windowsill before rolling it into a ball. She walked back to the detective and applied the rudimentary cold-pack to the burn. "Just give it a few minutes and it will get better," she promised when she saw him wince at the contact.

He nodded and couldn't help a smile. "If you say so, Doctor."

Julia chuckled and sat on the edge of the desk, next to his stool. She leaned toward him to plant a gentle kiss along his hairline, which made him smile. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?" she asked playfully. "Even when the streets of Toronto are calm as a glassy sea, you still manage to get hurt."

"Please, do not mention this," William sighed, his right hand coming up to rest on one of her knees. "I have been bored out of my mind for days, Julia, not a single case, not a single criminal on the loose… Don't get me wrong, I don't want people to get kidnapped or murdered, but…" He shook his head. "I don't know…"

"But when I came to see you yesterday, Inspector Brackenreid told me you were out on a mission," Julia mused, her fingers enclosing Murdoch's hand on her knee. His skin was pleasantly warm to the touch, and not because of the soldering iron. "Was he wrong?"

William grunted and looked elsewhere. Julia waited for a few seconds, but it soon occurred that he wouldn't talk about this "mission", whatever it was. She was going to change the topic of conversation when he spoke up. "They sent me to help a cat that was stuck in a tree," he said quickly, and so quietly that she almost missed it.

"They did what?" Julia asked, but she was already cracking up inside.

He gave her a false evil look. "You heard quite well."

His wounded eyes and sulking demeanor reminded her of a pouting child, and she laughed, for there was no escaping it. "Oh William, they really could make you wear a harness and have you pull a carriage!" she gasped in-between chuckles.

"I'll have you know that I almost fell – twice – and that hellion of a cat clawed at my arms so frantically that it took everything that I had not to throw it from the branch I was sitting on," Murdoch said briskly, whisking his hand away from hers. "But your concern is really heartwarming."

"Alright, alright, don't sulk, I was just teasing you William," Julia smiled, catching his hand between both of hers to bring it back to her knee. "We both know that you are a hero, you don't need to be reminded of this."

William's cheeks took on a faint crimson color and he looked away. "I am no hero, Julia."

"Well, at any rate, you are my hero."

The detective shook his head, as if dismissing the comment, but a smile was tugging at his lips. Staying angry at Julia Ogden was something he just couldn't bring himself to do. He looked up and into her clear blue eyes, and the tenderness he saw there melted his heart. "What on Earth did I ever do to deserve your company?" he asked, and his voice was just above a whisper.

Julia smiled and did not grant him with an answer; well, not with actual words. But she bent over and cupped his cheeks with her hands, gently tilting his head up at the right angle. When their lips joined for a warm, loving kiss, Murdoch closed his eyes and laid out his arms on the desk on either side of Julia. She had scooted closer and was sitting directly above him now, her knees against the middle of his torso, as their kiss kept going deeper and deeper.

So deep actually that William was glad the curtains of his office were drawn shut.

_If I'm not cautious enough, someday this desk could very well support something very different from my typewriter… _

"I would love to let you have your way with me," he whispered against her lips when they eventually broke off for air, "unfortunately, my door doesn't lock."

Julia smiled down at him, one of her hands coming up to stroke the hair on the back of his head. "Oh, I'm sure there will be other times… maybe a picnic in the park is in order, by sunset, with a bottle of absinthe…"

He laughed good-naturedly, his forehead coming to rest against hers. "If this situation ever happens again, I swear, I won't forget precautions," he promised.

"I am sure you won't." Julia gave his brow another kiss before she left her seat on the edge of the desk, and she gave the mess that had become his office a curious look. "Are you working on a new project?"

"Ah, yes, the idea has been nagging at my mind for quite some time now," Murdoch nodded as he stood up as well. "And since I find myself without any case at the moment, I decided to act upon it."

"Wonderful, and what is it going to be?" the pathologist asked as she picked up a roll of wires that had slipped under the desk.

"I'm glad you asked; I am trying to conceive a-" But he stopped and gave her a suspicious look. "Are you sure you want to know? Ever since this morning, I have been asked the same question but nobody seems to care enough to listen to the whole explanation…"

"Well, try me."

"Very well, then. This device could allow me to create an electric signal, or more precisely an electric arc, which once I am done calibrating it will in theory deliver enough power to synchronize heart muscles." He knew he was grinning, but he couldn't help himself. Every new invention was tremendously thrilling, all the more if it was one of his own ideas.

Julia looked a bit surprised, but she soon gave him a knowing smile. "Ah, I see someone has been reading _Journal of Medicine _before going to bed," she chided, and the boyish smile she obtained in return made her heart melt. "Well, it is true that heart cells communicate with electric-like impulses, not unlike electric eels' defensive organ…"

"Which allows them to work as one, in order to pump blood efficiently. I have in mind that a brief, controlled and powerful albeit harmless electric shock could settle the pace right for heart cells that went astray, or better, bring them to life again."

"And potentially save someone who is about to die of a heart ailment. William this is brilliant!" She grabbed his hands enthusiastically, minding his burn. "Think of all the possibilities! Hospitals, therapies, the opportunities are endless!"

"I admit I've thought about it a fair amount of time, yes," Murdoch admitted, his cheeks slightly flushed at her joy. He almost gasped when she threw her arms around his shoulders and delivered a hearty kiss upon his lips. "Good Lord, Julia, I'm the one who is going to need my invention if you keep pouncing on me like this!"

She laughed but stepped back to give him some space. "I am sorry, William, but it has been a trying week at the morgue and I am just happy to see you again. I didn't mean to annoy you."

"And you are not, not in the least," he assured her, not wanting her to feel as if he was pushing her away. For good measure he settled his hands on either side of her waist and brought her a little closer. "I just mistook your affection for a tiger attack, you have my apologies."

The two of them shared a loving look for a few minutes, completely oblivious to the rest of the – not so – busy constabulary. Hopping into that hot air balloon with her a few weeks before had been William's best decision ever since his choice to become a detective. He couldn't picture any way to be happier than he was at the moment, with the love of his life in his arms, smiling back at him.

"So, there is this new French restaurant just down Jarvis Street, _Belle Nuit _I think it is called," Julia told him in a whisper, her hands coming up and around his neck. "It is said they make the best inflated cake, or whatever they call it. Would you accompany me to try it?"

"I believe they call it "soufflé", and yes, I would be delighted," he answered. "I hope I won't be too busy to attend."

A loud crashing noise and a scream pierced their happy bubble and they stepped away from one another, instinctively turning to face the direction the sounds had come from. A small group of constables was gathering just outside Murdoch's office, and all were looking at something on the ground. "What on Earth is happening?" the detective muttered as he walked to his office door and opened it.

His eyes opened wide when he caught sight of Thomas Brackenreid himself lying on the ground next to Crabtree's desk, sweating and holding his chest as if his life depended on it. He looked as though he had just seen a ghost.

"George, what happened?" Murdoch asked the young constable who was using a file as a fan to bring fresh air to the Inspector.

"Sir, I'm not sure, but I think someone from outside threw a big stone and broke the window, look it's over there on the floor."

William spotted the stone near Brackenreid's office door, surrounded by a few shards of glass. "Did the stone hit the Inspector, is that why he fell down?" he asked, but already knew the answer as the rock was too far from where it would be if it had indeed struck Brackenreid.

"No sir, the Inspector was just walking by the window and… well, forgive me sir, but when the stone went through the window he just yelped and collapsed. Surprise, I'd say." Crabtree frowned when he realized his ministrations weren't doing Brackenreid any good; the redhead was still gasping and it looked like his blue eyes were about to bulge out of his skull. "But now, I'm not so sure…"

Julia kneeled next to the Head of Station Four and checked his pulse. "His heart is completely erratic, he is having a seizure!" she exclaimed.

Her words dropped on the constables like a bomb, and anarchy broke loose.

"Oh good Lord Jesus!"

"What are we going to do?"

"What do we tell his wife?"

"His sons are so young! This is awful!"

"Everyone calm down!" Murdoch shouted, but he had to slam his fist down on a desk to get the lads' attention. "Keep it together! It may be far-stretched but I have an idea. Julia, open the Inspector's vest and shirt, make him lie down. George, come with me, come on we're wasting time!"

Still in shock, George followed his superior back into his office. Murdoch gathered two metallic little boxes in his arms and pointed to a bigger, weird-looking device. "Carry this to your desk, do not touch anything."

The two men hurried back to Brackenreid and Julia shot them an urgent look. "William, his heart is giving out, what are you trying to do?"

"I don't know if this is going to work, but I'm not going to sit here and watch." When Crabtree lowered the machine on his desk, Murdoch turned a few switches and pushed a few buttons. The device emitted a humming sound, not unlike some kind of generator. He waited until a red light appeared on top of the metallic shell, and kneeled just next to Brackenreid. "Listen, George, when I say "now" I want you to press the top left button, and be quick about it," he instructed.

"Top left button, sir?"

"The one with blue tape on it," the detective said, positioning his two little metallic boxes on either side of Brackenreid's chest.

"But do I just press it, or do I keep it-"

"Now, George!"

The younger man almost squeaked and nervously pressed the aforementioned button. There was a loud bang, like a hundred light bulbs exploding at once, and Murdoch was thrown back as if he had been shot.

"William!" Julia cried out as she rushed to his side. He looked quite shocked, and his hair was sticking up a bit because of static electricity, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. "What on Earth happened?"

"I forgot to add some insulator around the handles, how very stupid of me," he grunted as he tried to sit up with her help. His eyes automatically moved to where Brackenreid was still laid out. "Did it work?"

Once she was sure that William was out of harm's way, Julia walked back to the Inspector and checked his pulse again. Against her own will, her jaw dropped open slightly. "William… this is unbelievable… His pulse is a little fast, but it is steady. You saved him, William!"

As if on cue, Brackenreid coughed and rolled onto his side, to the entire constabulary's intense relief. Higgins grabbed his superior under his arms to help him sit up as Crabtree ran off to get a glass of water. "Bloody hell, can someone tell me which damn horse stamped over me?" he croaked, and Murdoch had never heard him speak in such a weak voice.

"You were having a seizure, sir, but it's all over now," Julia explained calmly, checking his pulse one more time just to be sure. "Detective Murdoch saved you before it was too late."

"Murdoch?" Brackenreid blinked and looked around for the detective, only to find him by Crabtree's desk smoothing out his wild hair. "Murdoch! C'mere, old mucker, c'mere!" The younger man humored his superior and crouched down next to him; next thing he knew, he was locked into a sideway hug, which made the constables chuckle. "I'm so glad to have you here, my boy!"

"Err, you're very welcome, Inspector," William responded politely, awkwardly patting the older man on the back. Even Julia was watching him with an amused smile, which only furthered his embarrassment. "Do you want to try and stand up?"

"Yes, yes." Slowly and with the help of both Higgins and Murdoch, Thomas Brackenreid was back on his feet, not without an involuntary wince. "Bloody hell, I feel ten years older suddenly… What happened anyway?"

They told him about the stone and the broken window, and his state of shock. By the time they were done, Crabtree had returned and held out of glass of water for the Inspector to take, but he just made an odd face. "Water is for frogs, Crabtree, get me a nice glass of whiskey, I'd say I deserve it!"

Julia and William exchanged a glance. "Actually, Inspector, perhaps it would be best if you… lessened your alcohol consumption, at least for now," Murdoch said, his hands joined together behind his back. "Your heart may very well not take anymore."

"And try to eat healthier food, not just meat and fried dishes," Julia added, crossing her arms.

"You should also consider doing something about that temper of yours, getting angry on a regular basis is very bad for your heart, or so I've heard," George pursued, frowning at Brackenreid as if he were a small child.

"What is it, a bloody consultation? I had a moment of weakness, but it's over and done with now! What about the bloke who threw the stone, did anybody see him?"

"No sir, but I hardly think he was after you or even after the window." Crabtree walked over to the broken panel of glass, carefully avoiding the shards of the floor. He didn't want those horrible little things finding their way through his boots and into the delicate skin of the soles of his feet. He removed what looked like a broken jar from the windowsill. "Was there a plant in there?"

"Yes, it was mine, I put it on the windowsill so it would get some sunlight," Higgins told him sadly.

"Mhm, this might sound strange, but what kind of plant was it?"

"Oh, it was a Billbergia or something like that, my brother brought it back from his travels in the South…"

"Billbergia! Another member of the _Bromeliaceae_ family! Inspector, I think I'm onto something!" George cheerfully said, waving the remains of the flower pot and effectively sending bits of foliage and soil flying around.

"Then what are you waiting for, Crabtree? Why are you still standing here while some hooligan is out there maiming innocent plants and breaking perfectly fine windows? Get a move on, lad!" George blinked a few times, but when it dawned on him that Brackenreid wasn't joking, he grabbed his helmet and scurried out of the precinct faster than a bullet shot out of a rifle. When his fellow constables chuckled, the Inspector gave a growl. "And that applies to the whole lot of you, too! I want this man behind bars by tomorrow morning. And call someone to replace that window!"

When the constables had filled out of the station and Brackenreid had gone back to his office – not without a last grateful handshake with Murdoch – Julia went to William's side and laid her head on his shoulder. "So much for an uneventful day, don't you think?"

"Indeed," he nodded, his arm instinctively circling her waist. He was looking at his invention that was no longer producing any humming sound. "I fear my Cardiactivator may not have been ready for this… I'll have to open it and calibrate it once more."

"I told you, you are a hero." Julia pressed her lips to his cheek for a warm kiss, and as always, William felt as if he were ten times stronger. He held her close to his chest and nestled his chin in the crook of her shoulder, relishing the caresses her hands were giving his back.

He deposited a soft kiss under her ear, and she chuckled. "So… about that soufflé…" he whispered huskily, nuzzling her golden hair. "Maybe we could have it delivered at my house and enjoy it by the fire, restaurants are so stuffy this time of year…"

"My, William, how bold of you… I take it Mrs. Kitchen is out of town?" Julia smiled, tracing the edge of his square jaw with one finger.

"Visiting her son in Montreal for the next month, yes," Murdoch nodded, and Julia could have sworn there was something mischievous about the way he was looking at her. It sent shivers down her spine. "Well, what do you think?"

There was only one answer she could provide. "Just let me get my coat."


End file.
